


Sordid Conniptions

by JovialBondservant



Category: iZombie (TV)
Genre: F/M, LITERALLY, Major character death - Freeform, Major's dead, Warm Bodies Insp, slight angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 12:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4137777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JovialBondservant/pseuds/JovialBondservant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Blaine had the opportunity to eat the brains of the persistent human who had single-handedly taken down all of his henchman, he thought he would obtain badass levels of combat skills and drive. </p><p>Instead, he wound up with a knot in his chest and heat in his cheeks as a petite pale woman aimed a gun at his face. </p><p>Warm Bodies-esque drabble fic or "the one where Blaine eat's Major's brains"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Blaine craved power. Major Lilywhite tore through his men with god-like vigilante skills and Blaine wanted to feel the strength of this man’s determination running through his system. 

But Blaine wasn't a fool, either. He knew who this man was, who this man loved. He wouldn't gorge himself on these brains. He couldn't afford to lose himself to someone else's personality—not now. 

A taste was all he needed to quench his curiosity. He frowned. It was bland, yet metallic. He swallowed hard. Chewing another forkful over slowly, he idly wondered how he was ever going to get brains to taste halfway decent again, without his head chef, Cissie, to concoct new meals for him. 

A shot rang out without warning, Blaine nearly choked on the remaining brains in his mouth. He turned abruptly, cursing aloud, looking to see who he was up against now. 

He swallowed hard. 

Olivia Moore. 

_Son of a bitch._

\-- 

It's been well over a month since Liv shot him. 

Blaine keeps Major's brains on ice, but he's not entirely sure why. The benefits to eating the brain are slim to the comparably more immense cons. 

He was not fond of the man's moral code, and the amount of guilt that ensued after consumption. 

And of course, the unwavering fondness for a miss Olivia Moore that would drive him insane. 

He really should throw them out, he knows this, but he keeps them anyway. With his old system in ruins, he tells himself that he should keep them around, just in case he runs out of stock.

What a waste it would be to throw them out.

Yet he can't bring himself to sell them either. So they remain untouched, within Blaine's freezer. 

Until one slow, Tuesday afternoon. 

"My, my, Olivia Moore, you’re look stunning today." Blaine bowed slightly as he entered the morgue. 

She looked up and frowned.

"What do you want?" She spat her words with as much hostility as she could muster. 

Blaine didn't fight the grin that arose in response. "Why must you jump to such conclusions? Perhaps I just wanted to see you, catch up. I haven't seen you since, you know, _you shot me._ " 

She scoffed. "Please. You always have an ulterior motive, a plan up your sleeve." She reached for the scalpel beside her, an act of defense. "I'll have you know, I'm not in the mood for any of your games." 

"Well that's good," he stepped around the table and was in her space in a second. "because I don't intend to play around." 

Liv gripped her scalpel knife tighter as he loomed over her, she sucked in a breath. 

They were so close, and he was staring at her with quite the intensity, but Liv would not waiver. She eyed him back, just as fiercely. 

"I want you." 

Liv's eyes widened momentarily, before she erupted in anger. " _You monster_." 

She shoved him. Hard. He felt himself laughing despite this. 

"What can I say? I can't help it, it's one of the side effects to this particular meal." 

He searched her face, finding the slightest trace of tears welling in her eyes. 

He'd pushed her too far. 

_Good._

It was sick and it was wrong, but so was he, and if he was going to be plagued with an irrational attraction to someone who wanted him dead, he may as well have some fun with it. 

"You killed Lowell. _You ate Major_. You turned me into a zombie and you have the gall to show your face around here?" 

Her face was almost heated. He could’ve sworn he saw the faintest bit of colour in her cheeks as she stood before him, enraged. 

He felt his chest tightening just a bit. 

"I want you to leave." She spoke with a voice that was surprisingly strong and commanding. 

But that was the thing about Liv. He was always underestimating her. She was a small, pixie of a person who looked nothing like a threat—until she was kicking his ass and holding a gun to his head. 

He swallowed thickly. 

God. She was so stubborn. 

So strong. 

He felt an unfamiliar emotion bubbling up to the surface. These brains he was on were certainly maddening.

He felt...

_Guilty?_

The tears welling in her eyes betrayed her threatening visage. He once again stepped closer toward her, this time approaching slowly, humbly almost. 

She looked at him, fear flashing behind her eyes momentarily as she kept her brows furrowed. 

He raised his hand to cradle the side of her face, thumb brushing just under her eyelid, enticing a tear to fall. 

With that, she failed to stifle a sob. 

And then, quick as lightening, she proceeded to jam her scalpel knife in his forearm. 

_"Son of a--!!"_ He hissed, reeling back. 

"Get the hell out of here, unless you want to be one of the bodies locked away in a drawer." Her eyes darkened to blood red and he knew it was best not to push further. 

He frowned and nodded, pulling the scalpel out of his arm with a sickening sound and tossing it on the examiner's table carelessly. "Guns. Knives. Can't wait to see what you bring to our next date." 

She said nothing in reply, instead relying on her cold stare to see him out. 

At the exit, he turned back toward her, bowing his head slightly. "Lovely seeing you again, Miss Moore." 

He left and let out a breath. It was good that he was leaving, the knot in his chest was getting sickening. 

\---

It was stupid thing he did, every so often, sampling those brains. 

It really made him question himself and the choices he made. It was almost like he wanted to feel guilty about the evil deeds he dealt, but needed to garner another personality to accomplish such a feat. 

Blaine didn't want to feel guilty though. It hindered his ability to run his business. 

Yet he couldn't refrain from taking a hit of some certain brains when he felt he needed to. It was like some sort of twisted addiction. 

"I saw you naked." 

Liv whipped around at the sound of his voice. She had just gotten off her shift and was walking to her car when he approached her. 

"I was trying out this new shampoo today, smelled kinda citrus-y? Might’ve been grapefruit. Got quite the rush from the vision that ensued. I mean, I always imagined, but you are quite the looker. Too bad the vision cut short, that shower was about to get _dirty_."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Liv folded her arms and turned to face him fully. "Can't help but poke and prod at the hornet's nest, huh? Why do you insist on testing me?"

"Look, I just suddenly felt like seeing you." He held up his hands in mock surrender. 

"Yeah. Because you decided my fiancé would make for a delicious dinner."

"More of a snack, really." 

The slight drop of her jaw as she looked offended was disgustingly adorable. Blaine had to bite back the grin that was forming. 

"You're sick." She turned on her heel and began to make her way to her car. 

"Olivia, _wait._ " He reached out toward her. 

She turned back toward him. "The only reason you're still alive right now is because this lot has a camera on it."

"Olivia." Blaine cringed. He sounded a bit too much like he was pleading. And this pleading was a bit too genuine for his liking. "I just. I want to apologize."

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You think I'm just going to accept some weak-ass apology?"

"Not really, no." He sighed. "But-- I'm losing my mind, I'm not really sure what else to do, or who else to talk to anymore, being that my old crew is all dead."

His attempt at a joke fell flat with her. Blaine ran a hand through his hair as he looked toward the sky. "I'm messed up now, Liv. I can't help but feel...bad...about how things went down between us. I liked knowing that there was someone else like me out there, someone competent and living their own life. Someone who didn't work for me or owe me."

He looked her in the eye, aiming to convey a sense of seriousness. "I keep coming back to these brains for whatever reason, and I think, until I try to make things right on my end, I'm not going to be able to move on mentally." 

Liv shook her head. "Way to grow a conscious after it's too late, jackass.”

She turned away from him, this time for good. As she pulled out of the lot in her car, Blaine stood there, not really knowing where to go from there. 

\--

Blaine wanted to drink. There must be some sort of foul side effect that came from prolonged exposure to the same brains. Sure, it’d been a couple of weeks since he last took a shot of Lilywhite, yet he still didn't feel like himself. The logical course of action after that was to take a hit from ingesting Major's brain once again. 

If he wasn't going to feel like himself, he at least wanted to know _who_ he felt like. 

And he still felt weird about Liv. 

It wasn't even a feeling he could describe. It was just like he was angry that she was angry. 

Like he wanted to fix things. 

Which was moronic because that was impossible. 

He stared down at his phone, he happened to have her number punched in, his thumb was hovering over the call button. He had received her number from either her brother or her boyfriend, he couldn't really remember, but that didn’t matter. He simply lamented the fact that he was weighing over this "dilemma" like some sort of love-struck teenager. 

How disgusting. 

He pressed the call button and listened to the dial tone. 

It rang until it got to voicemail. 

_"This is Olivia Moore, I'm unavailable right now so leave me a message and I'll get back to you."_

Blaine sucked in a breath as her words drove him into a vision. 

_"Liv, it's me. Please, please, please pick up. If you're having second thoughts about the wedding or whatever, that's, that's fine. We can take this slow, whatever you want. I just, we need to talk. I want to know what's on your mind, Liv. Okay. I'll uh. I'll stop blowing up your phone just, get back to me, please. I love you."_

Blaine hung up. 

\--- 

Liv didn't need this. 

This wasn't who she was, this wasn't who _he_ was. 

She choked on a sob as he stepped closer and pulled her towards him. 

The brains of a supposed suicide victim confirmed her suspicions on the cause of death, and left Liv emotionally vulnerable during Blaine's routine annoyance of a visit. 

And of course, as he always seemed to be, he had been running on whatever remnants he still had of Major. 

So when she broke down before him, he was at her side, cradling her in his embrace. 

She wasn’t this person, so broken that they had given up on living, and he wasn’t the kind of person who would lend a hand, let alone a hug, yet here they were.

His touch felt so foreign, yet so familiar. Liv wanted to claw her own flesh off, she hated herself for being comforted by his presence. 

But she was so alone. 

And from what she could tell, so was he. 

So, for the moment, she could ignore the fact that she hated him with every fiber of her being, and just be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit drabble-y and not very good, but what can I say? I'm an artist, not a writer. I still want to delve into the idea a bit more(or perhaps encourage YOU to do so, wink, wink), and perhaps I'll write something lengthier that leads up to more...substance.
> 
> On a side note, where ARE all the post-season fics, guys?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's gotten to be an addiction. 
> 
> When the lines between your own personality and that of your meal become indistinguishable, it's time to step back and reevaluate yourself. 
> 
> Blaine needs to quit this.

Blaine lay awake in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

This was it. 

He was going insane. 

He ran his fingers down his face in exasperation. 

_\--- three weeks earlier._

Blaine tried to mask his abnormal demeanor as he sauntered down the steps to the morgue. 

He tried to ignore the fluttery feeling in his chest as he made his way to see her. 

He held his head high and pretended that he wasn't grinning in anticipation of seeing one, Olivia Moore. 

He turned the corner and stopped short. 

There on the other side of the room stood Liv. With a sizeable knife in her right hand, she hacked and slashed her way into the flesh of her left forearm. 

He was at her side in a second, grabbing her wrist to keep her from jabbing the knife into her arm again. 

She turned and looked up at him, startled, and her face made his stomach drop. 

Her eyes were red, full-on style, with tears streaming from them. The veins on her face were especially prominent. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" She spat, ripping her arm from his grasp and tucking it close to her body defensively.

She looked especially small now, more broken and frightened then he had ever seen her before. 

He wasn't sure how to take in the situation. "What are you--"

"I don't know!" She cried out, cutting him off and startling him in the process. "I don't know what I'm doing and it's messed up. These brains are messed up. I'm messed up and I--" she was starting to break down into sobs. "I just wanted to feel something. Anything. I'm sick of being this, this _thing._ " 

Blaine wasn't sure what to say, so instead he stepped forward, eyes on her eyes, wordlessly asking for permission to invade her space. He pulled her into an embrace. It was awkward at first, until Liv wrapped her arms around him too.

Blaine felt like his breath had been sucked right out of him as she clung to the back of his shirt. He couldn't help but wonder over his actions.

How would he have responded had he been of his own mind, uninfluenced by the emotions of someone who cared deeply for Miss Moore, someone who was generally an empathetic person to begin with? 

Blaine suddenly felt very conflicted. He wanted to be somewhere, anywhere other than here. Yet at the same time, he felt like he had been waiting a lifetime to hold this woman close to him, and he never wanted to let go. 

Blaine shut his eyes tight, trying to blot out the whirlwind of thoughts that plagued him. He settled on stroking her hair though, softly, lightly, a motion he hadn't realized he'd started until she pulled away from him. 

"I need to eat." She wiped at her eyes and turned away from him. 

She opened the fridge and scanned the contents, before pulling out a particular container and setting it on the counter. 

As she searched around for utensils, Blaine eyed the Tupperware that contained her next meal. 

There was a label on it that said in big bold letters: _"for rainy days"_ with a yellow smiley-face sticker on top. 

Blaine chuckled at the memento, wondering if it was the good doctor who had tagged it as such. 

Liv returned a pair of forks and two plates, setting them on the counter beside the brain. "This girl was particularly cheery, and ever the optimist. The first time I ate her brains, she kind of made me feel like myself before I was a zombie." 

She opened the lid as she spoke, scooping some out for herself and gesturing for him to take some as well. 

"No thanks, I think you need it more than I do." 

She rolled her eyes, still reddened from the tears that had previously fallen. A bit of her signature snarkiness was peaking through, though. "Please. There's enough for both of us." 

Deciding not to further refuse, he grabbed the fork she had brought for him and sampled a small portion. 

He glanced up at her, her eyes shut in contentment. He smiled slightly, thankful to see the relief on her face that came with having a brighter personality take over. 

He chewed his own piece slowly, noting the buzz in his brain as he did so. Already he could tell that too much of this brain would be problematic and so stopped after his first bite. 

This sort of peppy, positive personality was best suited for Liv, and he was already trying to quash the similar emotions that stemmed from eating Lilywhite. 

"How did she die?" He wasn't really sure why he asked, he was only mildly curious, but he did want to gauge Liv's current demeanor. 

"She was one of a dozen victims who died in the bus accident, a couple weeks back." 

Blaine nodded, recalling the event, vaguely, in his mind. 

"She was on her way home from volunteer work with the Special Olympics." 

"That's depressing." Blaine glanced down at the brains that remained in the container. 

Liv hummed in thought, tapping her chin before speaking. "I suppose so...but maybe it's one of those glass-half-empty, glass-half-full scenarios. She did so much for so many people before she passed away. Maybe, even though she died, her presence inspires people to do better." 

Blaine jerked his head toward her, noting how she used the present tense in that last comment, and with the hopeful look on her face, he knew he needed to get out of there. 

Those were some potent brains if they were able to make Liv think of him as anything other than the monster he was. 

"Well, thanks for the bite." Blaine stood abruptly, breaking away from the situation that was beginning to feel a bit too constricting. "Glad you're feeling better." 

He walked briskly, eager and aiming to get the hell out of there. He wasn't sure why he was leaving, only that he needed to, now. 

As he left, he thought for a moment that he heard Liv speaking to him, but he was too far gone to make out what she had said. 

\-- 

A week after that particular event, Blaine takes another shot of his rapidly-dwindling supply of Major Brains. 

He is actively avoiding Liv, however, so he isn't exactly sure why he ate those brains, and he's definitely not liking the outcome. 

He's really...mopey. 

He had had a vision of Liv bringing him, no, _Major_ , a mug of coffee, telling him not to stress over his job interview, before leaning up to kiss him on the cheek as he left. 

It was unnerving. 

When he had had his first dose of Major Brains, he had found it almost amusing to see this other side of Liv that he would have never been privy to, but now it felt wrong.

And he was oddly jealous. 

_He'd had enough._

He stood up and stormed over to his freezer, snatching the plastic bag that contained the remnants of Lilywhite's brain and tossing it in the trash can. 

He shut his eyes and let out a defeated sigh. 

After a beat, he pulled the bag out from the trash, returning it to the freezer. Just in case. He put it all the way in the back however, before placing a few ice trays in front and locking the freezer door.

No more of Major’s brains. 

That had been two weeks ago, and now, major-free, Blaine still didn't feel any better. He rolled over in his bed, hands splayed out on the satin sheets, noting the empty space he saw before him. 

Fingers curling, he tore into his sheet, before he ripped a strip of fabric off in anger. 

He got out of bed, flinging the scrap off into the corner. He paced the floor, fingers running through his hair. 

He had never felt so fucked up. 

He didn't _understand_ , either, and that's what bothered him most of all. 

This wasn't lust. And it sure as hell wasn't love. It wasn't anything other than spending every waking moment _craving_ interaction with someone he shouldn't ever get involved with. 

But _why_. 

The emotions he felt for Liv didn't belong to him. He had liked to tease her, mess with her, keep her on her toes. But he had always enjoyed a significant distance from someone so resolutely and morally different. 

These emotions didn't belong to Lilywhite either, he knew that for sure. That's what scared him the most. 

He groaned and ceased the pacing. 

He didn't like being restless. He glanced at the clock that read 5:48 am. 

Shrugging his shoulders, he decided to get dressed. 

Walking to the morgue wasn't ideal, but he had time to kill before her shift started. Blaine felt on his back the cold rain that fell as it started to drizzle. 

He picked up his pace to that of a jog and rounded the corner to the police station. 

Once inside, he began to feel jittery with anticipation. He didn't really have a purpose for being there and he wasn't sure how she would receive him this time. 

He entered the morgue and glanced around. The medical examiner, Doctor Chakrabarti, was there, concentrating on paperwork of some sort. 

Blaine cleared his throat to grab his attention. "Is Olivia Moore around...?" 

"Hmm?" The doctor looked up at the sound of his voice, registering the face of the visitor. "No, no, she's not usually this early."

"Ah." Blaine nodded his head, unsure of what to do when the person he came to see was absent. "How's she doing...?" 

"Liv? She's ah, she’s good." Ravi glanced around awkwardly, not really sure where Blaine was taking this situation. 

"Last time I saw her...she was kind of a wreck."

"Oh yea, she told me about that." Ravi offered a small smile. "Thank you, by the way, for being there for her. I know it's not usually your style."

"Yeah...it's not." He spoke, quiet in contemplation. "Well, it was great talking with you, doc. Take care of yourself." 

He turned to leave. 

"I'll tell Liv you stopped by," Ravi spoke, waving his hand in farewell. 

Blaine nodded. 

As he returned home by foot, he cursed aloud at the lack of foresight he had had this morning. The rain was far more than a drizzle by now. 

After a couple of blocks, Blaine was soaked and his clothes were heavy. He stopped underneath the cover of some small grocery shop. 

He pulled his phone out from his back pocket, shaking the water off and turning it on to see if it still worked. 

When it lit up in confirmation, Blaine found himself scrolling through his contacts. 

_Olivia Moore._

With a few quick taps, he composed a quick text. 

_"Hope you're well."_

Send. 

He glanced around. The rain hadn't let up yet and it didn't look it was going to. 

He was about to book it for his apartment, when his phone buzzed. 

_"Who is this?"_

Fuck. 

How was he supposed to answer that? _'Just your crazy zombie stalker, no big deal'._ He shouldn't even have her number. 

Blaine ran a hand down his face. 

He turned his phone off and slipped it back in the pocket of his wet jeans. Rolling his shoulders a bit, he took off running. 

\---

_“You’re getting sloppy, asshole.”_

“How the hell did you get up here?” Blaine yelled through his door, as he peered through the eyehole. 

“That doesn’t matter. What does matter is this.” Liv held up a photo to the eyehole that was indistinguishable. “Let me in, Blaine. Or I’ll break your goddamn door down.”

Blaine grumbled as he slid the chain back and unlocked the door. As soon as he turned the handle, she barraged herself into his door, letting herself in. She stormed into the foyer, photo in her hand with a vice-like grip. 

“Are you gonna tell me what this is about?” Blaine crossed his arms as he stared her down. After the text message mishap, he had come to the conclusion that he would back off for good. It’d been several weeks since then, and he’d been relatively angry the entire time. 

He had resigned to leave her alone, cut himself off from her, for the good of them both, honestly. He didn't understand what was wrong with him and why he felt the way he did and he didn't want her to have to deal with that, or see him for something he's not. Here she was now though, she had come crashing into his home, invading his space. 

“This is about _you_ leaving your trash around for people to run into.” She thrust the photograph in his direction, and he took it from her grasp. 

It was a picture of a murder crime scene. The victim was indistinguishable, lying prone on his stomach, skull cracked open and missing any remnant of a brain. 

He narrowed his eyes before tossing the picture back toward her. “I didn’t do that.”

“Well who the hell did, then? One of your disgruntled customers? You’re putting us _both_ at risk here with this stunt. I’ve got a detective breathing down my neck, looking for answers from a psychic, and the only thing I’ve got to go off of is that this is _clearly_ zombie handiwork, which I can’t very well tell the Seattle Police Department.”

“How is that my problem?”

“How is not?” Liv was in his face and Blaine briefly recalled a time at which this situation might’ve made his stomach flip like a little school girl.

 _Fuck that._

“Whether you did this or not, I’m willing to bet you’re connected to the someone who did.” Liv folded her arms over her chest and turned away from him, entering main room of his apartment. “And if the Police get to the murderer before I can and they’re exposed for what they are, you and I are both going to have to update our passports or face an angry mob of gun-toting doomsday preppers.” 

She was hovering over his coffee table now, going through some of the papers he had left strewn about on the surface. 

“Hey, _hey--_ ” Blaine snatched some letter from her clutches before slamming it down on the table. “I don’t appreciate you going through my stuff.”

She stared up at him, noticing the daggers in his eyes and matching it with a pointed look of her own. “Well, if you’d take care of your own _‘stuff'_ , I wouldn’t have to go through it. Where’s your list of clients?”

Blaine was furious. She was way too demanding. He needed to end this, now. 

“Get out of here, now. Solve your own damn problems somewhere else.”

Liv frowned, and refused to move. 

“I am sick and tired of being this monster, okay? The last thing I want to happen is everyone finding out what I am and treating me the way monsters are treated.” Liv uncrossed her arms, letting them hang at her sides instead as she balled up her fists. “I didn’t _ask_ to be this way, you know.”

Blaine narrowed his eyes, If she was trying to dig at him for what she was--

 _That_ wasn’t his fault. 

_It wasn’t._

Goddamn though, the twinge of guilt he felt in his gut was annoying. He turned away and walked over to a small end table, picking up his phone. 

She eyed him, curious as to what he was doing. 

A few taps and he pressed send. 

Her phone buzzed shortly after. 

“What the--” She reached into her pocket to extract her phone, examining the text that had appeared. “How do you have my number?”

“That’s the list.” He refused to answer her question. “It needs to be updated, but that’s it for the most part.”

“How many more..?” Liv questioned, looking up at him.

“Not more. Less. A few of the names have turned up dead, or haven’t turned up at all.”

Liv seemed mildly shocked at his statement, before returning her attention to the list. “Wait, I know that name. Ivan Antonov, isn’t that the mortician who works down at Bleitz funeral home?” 

Blaine nodded. “I turned the mortician for easy access to brains. I mean, you weren’t gonna share.” He couldn’t refrain from smirking. 

The expression on her face in return, was unreadable. Somewhat astonished perhaps? Blaine wasn’t sure. She shook her head and returned to to the text.

“So, how many of these names are...missing?”

Blaine leaned over her shoulder, pointing out about a half dozen. “Only two of those people have actually turned up dead though.” He stepped away from her, looking gravely in another direction. “They were mangled up pretty badly. One was missing its head, the other was nothing but scraps and pieces.”

Liv’s face was wrought with concern. “Well...What do you think happened?”

“Dunno. Don’t really care.” Blaine shrugged it off as he look back toward her. “But if this keeps up, I’m gonna have to hunt down some new clientele.”

“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes, frowning. “And when were you gonna tell me?”

He scoffed. “It’s not your problem. Why would I be coming to you about it?”

She shoved his arm. “Well, it’s my problem now, ass. I’m not going to let this ‘issue’ ruin what semblance of a life I have left.”

She stomped off toward the door, calling back over her shoulder. “Grab your coat, I need you to take me to see every person on this list.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently? I'm? Not? Done??? 
> 
> I thought about this all day and work and before I knew it, I was home again and typing this up. I actually thought up plot. Dude.


End file.
